


Words Between Us

by Aviss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Inspired by podcast, Jaime's a rock star, No Twincest, you know which one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29108076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: Brienne only wrote and recorded that fantasy as a favour for a friend, it wasn't as if Jaime Lannister was ever going to listen to it. And if he did, what were the chances of them ever meeting?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 60
Kudos: 188





	Words Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> When the Dirty Diana came out I had the idea of writting something for it. I, naively, believed it could be a one shot. It's not. I have a vague idea of where I'm going with it, but it will probably surprise me as well.

"You have to listen to this," Addam says entering Jaime's hotel room without so much as a knock, the spare keycard Jaime should have not given him in his hand. 

Jaime yawns from the couch where he's been dozing since he rolled out of bed half an hour ago, too tired to do anything while he waits for room service to bring his breakfast and much-needed coffee. 

The previous night's show was long and the afterparty longer still, and Jaime's twenties are far in the rearview mirror.

"Good morning to you too, Addam."

"Good afternoon, you mean." There is a knock on the door and he opens it, allowing room service in and even tipping when they're done like the good friend he is, so Jaime doesn't have to move from his boneless sprawl just yet.

"I haven't had coffee, it's morning for me." They all know he's useless in the mornings during tours, Jaime doesn't know how Addam and Daven and Elia are functional or even awake, they were all in the same party. "And we have nothing to do until tonight." When their group, Wildfire, is playing again. This time, thankfully, in a smaller venue. 

It will be the third and last show in Riverrun before they pack up and head to King's Landing, where they have two big venue shows and a smaller one scheduled before they can conclude their tour. Jaime loves his life and his group and his friends, and he adores the feeling of being on top of the stage pouring his feelings onto the willing crowd, but he's on the wrong side of forty and he's tired. This tour was supposed to be just three months and has lasted twice as much already, and it has been extended twice on account of how popular it's been. At the risk of sounding ungrateful when faced with success, Jaime just wants for the tour to be over so he can spend the next couple of months in his newly purchased retreat in Tarth, where people hopefully won't know him and he can focus on writing new songs and get the house the way he wants it.

He doesn't say any of this, just flops dramatically on the couch until Addam pours him a cup of coffee and helps him sit up. 

"Drink up, old man, you'll need it in a minute," he says with a shit-eating grin as he grabs Jaime's mobile and fiddles with it for a moment. He places it, opened on a streaming app, on top of the table.

"What do you want me to listen to now? A new Lyssene death metal group that will be all super cute teenagers who sound like the Stranger is crawling out of their throats?" 

He did that last week, laughing while Jaime stared at him in horror. Addam's grin widens, his expression making alarm bells start in Jaime's head. He's way too amused for this early in the morning.

"Better, drink up."

Jaime does, he knows his friend enough to do as he says when he gets like this, otherwise he'll know no peace at all today. He grabs one of the pastries on the tray while he drinks the coffee, dark and bitter and strong enough to revive him. "At least give me a clue."

"It's a podcast." Jaime groans, he doesn't enjoy podcasts much, gets easily distracted and loses focus on whatever story they are telling him."About sexual fantasies. And this episode…"

Jaime closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me I don't have to listen to someone fantasizing about you and I in a torrid relationship, or you and Daven and Elia in an eternal love triangle." There had been fanfiction, some very explicit one that Elia had read to him one day when they were all very, very drunk, and which still made Jaime itch uncomfortably and want to dive under the covers of his bed. He didn't care that people wrote about him and his friends as if they were fictional characters, but he didn't need to read those stories. It also made him wonder how flexible and young those people believed he was, some of the things Elia had so gleefully described were not even physically possible without risking a sprain or a concussion. 

"Oh no, nothing like that." Addam presses play on the app and stands up. "Enjoy," he says, the usual introduction to something called Dirty Diana starts while he walks to the door.

That's new, Addam usually stays to laugh at Jaime's reactions. "You're not going to watch?"

"Not for this one, trust me."

Jaime blinks at the closed door and grabs another pastry, the music for the intro finishing. He wonders for a moment whether he can just pretend to have listened to it, but Addam's antics have piqued his curiosity. He'll probably be bored in under five minutes, not whatever the app says the recording will last, but there is no harm in letting his friend have his fun.

It starts with a woman speaking, her voice is slightly familiar, like someone Jaime should know from TV or a movie but too generic for recognition. The other voice, though, that one makes Jaime sit straighter. He's never heard it before, he would know if he had. It's a woman's voice, but deeper and lower, it has a smoky quality he appreciates and when she chuckles there is a bit of a rasp to it. Intrigued, he puts the pastry back on the plate and focuses on the podcast.

The woman speaks softly, her accent musical. Westerosi, but not from the north or the west, sounds like a Stormlander if Jaime is any judge. She's speaking about her exes, her voice weary as she speaks of being cast aside and left for the newer model, a rant he's heard mode than once from his own sister and every other woman in his life, her voice gaining strength and bitterness as she progresses. Then she stops, and her voice goes quiet again, making Jaime lean forward and listen attentively. 

He's not stupid, he knows this is scripted, but listening to her voice talking about the allure of dating a famous man, like Jaime, of being able to forge a connection with one and being the one who understand him, makes him want to know her. To make that connection.

"Is that your fantasy?" the other woman asks.

"I have a crush on Jaime Lannister," the woman says, her voice curling around his name in a way that sends a chill down his spine. 

He startles and presses pause in the app. Hearing his name said so clearly in that voice Jaime suddenly understands why Addam's left looking like the cat who got the cream.

"Oh fuck," he mutters, he knows where this is going now and doesn't know whether to keep listening or close the app, drown himself in coffee, change his name, and flee so he doesn't have to face the assholes he calls friends ever again.

He takes a deep breath and presses play again.

"You know him? From Wildfire? He's so fucking beautiful, so alluring," she continues, and each word lands like a flash of heat in Jaime's blood. He can feel himself blushing, because there is a thread of embarrassment from hearing a fantasy about himself, something that should be private. Even a fake one, same as there was when listening to that fanfic, but it's her voice that really makes it feel different. Not dirty, _alluring_ , like she says he is. "When he's on the stage he looks like one of the Gods, like the Warrior made flesh, and when he looks at you in the crowd with those beautiful green eyes of his. Makes you think he can see you, that you are the only person with him in the venue, the sound of his voice reaching deep inside of you and making a space there for his words. That moment when you hear some lyrics and you know, you just know, that whoever put those feelings to paper is the person for you. It doesn't matter who they are or where they come from, they have found the words that you've always wanted to hear, that you've always wanted to say, and they are perfect for you."

Jaime can't breathe, can't do anything but stare wide eyed at the mobile, his heart beating loudly in his chest because he knows what she means, he knows what she's talking about. _Her words right now are perfect for him._

"He doesn't know me and he doesn't care for me, but in my fantasy I scored a ticket to Wildfire's last show in King's Landing. I'm on my own in the small, intimate venue with people pressing around me and swaying to the music, hundreds of voices singing in time to his words. He looks up from his microphone and the band starts playing Honour, and everything, everyone but him fades from my consciousness. He's staring right at me, his eyes boring into mine, lips wet from where he's just drank some water, and I feel myself responding to him, getting wet in turn, my breath stuck in my throat as his eyes devour me. I know it's not true, it can't be, there are hundreds of people, all beautiful and eager, and I am nowhere as pretty as them."

There is a brief pause, the sound of her taking a deep breath and Jaime does the same, exhales in time with her so he doesn't miss a sound.

"After the show, while I'm still coming down from the high, a security guard approaches me and tells me Jaime wants to see me. _Me_. Backstage. I say yes, because there is no other word in my mind then but yes. I follow the guard as if in a trance, feeling the jealous stares of all those other men and women who wish to be in my place, who think I don't deserve this honour, and when I reach his room Jaime turns and smiles at me, and he's the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life. I don't hear the sound of the door closing, don't see anything but him. He tells me he saw me, in the crowd, and asks whether I want to leave with him. What else can I say but yes?"

He's done that before, not as much as the rumours said, when he was younger and the idea of what being a rockstar was included sleeping with starstruck fans and drinking to excess. It usually left him feeling empty, his need for connection greater than his need for sex.

"We run down the backdoor and into his waiting car, giggling like kids as his fans surround us, reaching for him, wanting what he's offering me. We go to his hotel room and he orders too much food and a couple of bottles of wine, and we talk, and talk, and talk. We're on his bed, fully clothed, and there are so many words between us, so many things he's never told anyone before, so many feelings in his eyes. I was expecting a good fuck, a good hard fuck, but what I get is this connection, this soft look and tender hands and his voice, crooning secrets I know he's never trusted anyone with. I don't know what to feel, I want to curl myself around him and protect him from the entire world. Then the wine is finished and he asks just one question. 'Do you trust me?'. Of course I do, how can I not? He undresses me, carefully, until I am completely bare in front of him, then he takes my hands and ties them to the bedframe, leaving me open and exposed to his gaze, to his hands, to his tongue."

Jaime coughs in surprise and pauses the podcast. He stands up and paces around the suite, looking at him mobile on the table. He can stop here, doesn't need to listen to the rest. He can get dressed and join his friends for lunch and listen to their teasing, forget he ever started listening to this. 

Instead he grabs the phone and goes inside the bedroom. He locks the door and lets his dressing gown fall to the floor on his way to the bed. 

He lays himself there, naked as the woman in the fantasy, and rewinds the podcast to the beginning of her story, closing his eyes so he can see the scene playing in his mind in time with her voice. He can't picture her face, but the woman would be tall enough to stand out in a crowd, blond, because he does have a thing for blonds, and not too curvy. Jaime might be one of the few men in the world who prefer small breasts. She'd have long legs, spread open on the bed for him, and Jaime would lose himself between them. 

He listens to her voice as she speaks of him pleasuring her, raspy breaths in the background as her voice croons obscenities about him, and takes his cock in his hand. He can't remember the last time he was this hard when not actively having sex with his partner, and there haven't been that many of those, but there is something in her voice, something about the tale she's telling that has Jaime aroused and panting in no time. 

It's not about the sex, it's about everything.

He's close to coming when she begs him to fuck her, her voice like molten lava, the sounds of her asking for his cock and the friction of his own hand almost unbearable. It's not that what makes him come, though, it's her voice, trailing off in the end among panting breaths and talking about connecting, about all the things she wants them to do together, not just one fuck.

Jaime stares at the ceiling as the music takes over and signifies the end of the podcast, feels wrung out and slightly unsettled, his own come drying in his hand and stomach. He feels a bit foolish, because he's sure Addam knows what he's done and they are going to make fun of him, and also because he just masturbated to the voice of a stranger having a fantasy about him and he should be more embarrassed than he is. 

He just feels slightly wistful. 

He grabs some tissue and cleans his hand, then goes back to the beginning and presses play again. 

…

There is nothing but relief when Jaime finally lands in Tarth and heads to his new house. 

He's not seen the property himself since he bought it, had no time for the trip, what with the preparation for the tour and everything else, just made the bank transfer and trusted Pia and the people she'd hired to follow his instructions. 

Now that he's here, he can see his trust wasn't misplaced. The house is beautiful, just one story high with white walls and a red tiled roof. There is a big patio in the back with views to the most beautiful beach he's ever seen and a swimming pool, and a garden that is completely wild and has been untended for too long but sprawls almost all the way to the private cove that came with the property.

That's the part he's most looking forward to, the garden. He's already hired a local landscaping firm, and will meet the landscaping architect the next day so they can start working on his vision for the garden. It has to be perfect, that's where he usually retreats for inspiration to write his songs. He blames Olenna and the summers spent in Highgarden, before her relationship with Twyin soured, for his honest appreciation for flowers, though he's never going to tell her.

Jaime's going to need all the inspiration he can get now, he has to write the most perfect words for the next song, the one for the mysterious woman with the voice he wants to hear again.

Ever since the Riverlands and that podcast Addam gave him Jaime has thought about little else but finding who she is. He submitted himself to his band's laughs that day, but they must have seen how it really affected him, because their jokes were short lived and benign enough. After they saw him scanning the crowd during the night's show, and during the following ones in King's Landing, they stopped teasing and tried to help. 

"The Podcast is made by a small production company, you were right that one of the actresses is someone famous, Maege Mormont, she was really big about twenty years ago," Daven said the last night they were in King's Landing. "But I haven't been able to find anything about the guest stars. This one is apparently a friend of Maege's daughter who did it as a favour, but wasn't named beyond her initials, B.T."

That didn't give him much to go on, and Jaime was reluctant to dig deeper, even if he knew he could. It would be creepy to bring his family's resources into play for this, didn't want Tyrion's and Bron's fingers all over it. 

His plan is not much better, though. Thinking he has a chance to find her with a song it's probably just a fantasy like the one he still listens to way too much, but he's still going to do it. 

He thinks about her that night in his new bed, the windows in his room open and the sound of the waves loud and strangely calming, thinks about whether she wrote her own fantasy or just read a script given to her and Jaime's being a creep and a fool looking for something that doesn't exist, for thinking it was about him when it could have been about any famous person and they just slapped his name there as an afterthought.

He's still wondering about it in the morning, enjoying his first breakfast on the patio, with the sun on his skin and the waves breaking over the cove in the distance. Under the light of day it's silly to think he can find her that way, maybe he just needs to delete the recording and forget about it, wait to meet a special person the way normal people do, by meeting real people.

Oh, he's writing the song, that's for sure. The words have been pressing against his mind for weeks and they need to be let out, and the rhythmic crashing of the waves is giving him an idea for the melody, he just shouldn't put more significance to it. 

Just a new song, a good one, and a fantasy to go with it. It's the right thing to do, like buying this house was. 

He can see himself spending time here between tours and recording sessions. His alarm reminds him he has an appointment with the landscape architect in half an hour, and reluctantly Jaime picks up his empty dishes and goes inside to shower and get himself presentable. 

He's making another pot of coffee when the bell rings, and he opens the door to see a very tall, blond woman on the other side. She's pale and freckled, with long legs and wide shoulders and is wearing a light linen pantsuit, in deference to the heat, and is checking something in a folder in her hands, not even looking at Jaime yet.

"Good Morning, Mister Jason Hill? My name is Brienne Tarth, from Evenstar Landscaping, we have an appointment."

Jaime freezes when she starts speaking, his mouth falling open in shock. It can't be, can it? He can't be this lucky, but the voice is deep and low and slightly smoky, and if there is one thing Jaime knows, is how to recognize voices. " _It's you_."

Her head snaps up at his voice and she flinches as she gets a proper look at him, a dark flush taking over her skin, and the bluest eyes he's ever seen huge on her face. "Jaime Lannister?"

…


End file.
